Flesh and Blood
by La Belle Dame avec Merci
Summary: The tragic events of "Love Never Dies" are behind him. Erik, at last, is moving forward with a living bride. Contains sex scenes. I do not own "Love Never Dies" or any of its characters.


Erik lined up his automatons and mannequins. They were beautiful. Even though these were the ones which hadn't made it to the amusement park.

His wife, Jessie, watched him. He turned around and regarded her. Jessie had put him in a very strange situation. Lasting happiness. To Erik it was a very odd situation indeed.

Jessie snuck up behind and put her arms around his waist. "I wish more of these talked."

"Well I talk. Aren't I enough to entertain you?"

She bit his ear. He absent-mindedly patted her.

They had been married for six months now. Jessie had once thought she could never compete with the memory of Christine. But as love had replaced the anguish in his eyes, she had known she was getting somewhere. When he had proposed it was the most wonderful thing that had happened to her.

Jessie was not terribly young. But she was still considerably younger than him. She had been an extremely fortunate servant. Not every servant got a marriage proposal from the master!

And she had not even been with child. She sniggered to herself. The delightful part had started after their marriage. He was such a gentleman.

Jessie was not musically talented. She was a nurse. Her international career had been successful. Why had she settled, in her early thirties, for a simple job as a housekeeper? To a sad man and his wistful son. At any rate, she was rather glad she had.

Erik was not the only man who had ever proposed. Two others had back home in England. Jessie could have been a wife with six ailing children in a miserable London garret with a husband who spent his evenings drinking at the inn. Erik was the only man who had made an attractive offer.

She laughed to herself. Why did men find her so desirable, anyway? Maybe it was because she had always liked them so much.

"All these figures could serve a purpose, Erik," she said. "Why don't you put them on show?"

"No. They didn't work. They weren't perfect."

Jessie lined up one that was of a gentleman in a pinstriped suit, carrying a cigar. "I love that one."

"Gustave loves him too."

Another was a little girl with a caged bird. Jessie knew there was no point in asking Erik why he didn't throw them away. These were his creations. He just couldn't.

That was why their townhouse was so stuffed. Just as well they had plenty of space. This room was the best in the house. It was where you could press a button and things disappeared into vaults.

Jessie sat on the floor and played with her favourite one. Erik smiled, admiring her.

All the male dancers at Phantasma, and most of the stage crew, fancied her. And it wasn't just because she was beautiful. She was so cheerful. She could make everybody laugh with her witty, silly, and provocative jokes.

Jessie's favourite was a parlour maid. The saucy expression was somewhat like her own. Although her long, crimped blonde hair was not like its short dark locks. Jessie's English rose face, and her merry turquoise eyes, were worth replicating.

But Erik was more into poetry at the moment. He had not made any of these for a while.

She looked up at him cheekily. Fond cheekiness, with an eyebrow quirked, was one of her usual expressions.

"Why don't you make one of yourself, Erik?"

He laughed. "I'm here often enough. You have a real Erik to make love to. But you make me think of something else though, Jessie."

"What, my sweetheart?"

"Everyone thinks there's a mannequin of Christine here. But I do not... have it anymore."

Jessie's mood darkened. But what she felt, more than anything, was concern for her husband.

She came over and stroked him. Words were not needed when he spoke of Christine. She just comforted him.

She kissed him, firmly, on the lips. "It hurt me when I got rid of it," he said.

Jessie snuggled up to him. She rubbed his back. "Oh, my dear heart. Gustave and I adore you. We're here, anyway."

As she massaged the tension out of his shoulders, he could not help having his little tantrum.

"The staff at Phantasma love talking about me. They visualize tragic Mr Y and his unfortunate son." He twitched at an automaton of an old man. "Why can't they see that things have really improved for us?"

"Yes. Why can't they?"

"I can't sit around and mope anymore. You don't give me time to do that, Jessie. You exhaust me way too much."

He looked over his shoulder and smiled at her. He could never have imagined how much she would change things.

"Well I'm naughty aren't I. Not letting Erik be miserable. Isn't that disgusting?" She sprang up behind him and began unbuttoning his trousers.

"Don't start that again," he giggled.

"Why not?"

She pulled down his pants with alacrity.

She stood there with her hands on her hips, and surveyed him from behind. "Now. Move."

He did. He laid her down on the floor.

She felt him unfastening her dress and corset. He yanked down her knickers in a way which brooked no opposition. Maybe she had been too cheeky. She would pay for it, she thought with a giggle.

She was now naked. Erik restrained her. He trailed kisses from her shoulder down to her breasts.

She lovingly stroked his head. She was completely oblivious to the strangeness of his appearance. And she always had been.

Jessie had never thought Erik was frightening. He was just her sensitive, generous, indulgent, protective, moody, frustrating, grumpy, adorable husband.

She heaved a long sigh. He placed a hand on her lady parts. Her husband was good at this. Too good.

Erik put his head between her legs. He loved woman. He loved the taste of her, the feel of her.

His wife was a never-ending source of enjoyment. He licked her and sucked her, and savoured her. She moved into his tongue, her sighs breaking out.

She became very slick. Her cheeks bloomed, and her English rose complexion became more prominent.

Erik sat up and moved forward. He placed his cock in her hands, and she drew it into her mouth.

This woman was an absolute gift.

It was too much pleasure. But somehow they survived it every time. He was nearly there. By hook or by crook he managed to do it. It was hard to focus on joining them. But he managed to get inside her.

He slid into that soft, small, wet place. Her sweet little quim teased him and hugged him and enveloped him. There was nowhere he liked being more.

They both became very wet. Jessie held him close as he exploded with ferocity inside her. Soon, she shook too. When her tremor was over she was exhausted.

They laid by the fire.

"Erik?" she asked, giggling.

"Yes?"

"Could an automaton do this?"

"An automaton would not taste, and smell, quite like you," he said with drowsy contentment. "And it would not annoy me quite as much as you do."

"I shouldn't be doing this." She poised her tongue, ready, while her hand explored one of his soft spots.

"No. You shouldn't be," he grinned.

She gave him a wide-eyed look.

"Someone might invent an automaton, one day," he sighed, "that can lick a man's cock, and sack, and then slide its tongue into his arse. Like that. Ahhh... "

He wouldn't need it, Jessie thought to herself. Not while he had her.


End file.
